


For Jotunheim

by Nikolaus_Chaser



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Bottom Loki, Deception, F/M, Implied Mpreg, Intersex Jotunn (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Lies, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-08-25 18:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolaus_Chaser/pseuds/Nikolaus_Chaser
Summary: War is coming to Jotunheimr.  In a bid for the Casket of Ancient Winters, Laufey promises the hand of his youngest son Loki to the Warrior Prince Thor of Asgard.  When Loki gives birth to Thor’s heir, the Casket will be returned to Jotunheimr.  But the politics of Asgard are far more turbulent than Loki ever expected.  An assassination attempt leaves the House of Odin in discord and throws Jotunheimr into civil war.  As they are plunged into conflict, Thor and Loki must find a way to survive not only the looming threat of war but the web of lies and chicanery Loki has woven around their marriage from the beginning.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Another Thorki!! What can I say? I've been completely sucked in.  
> Arranged marriage is always a weak spot for me, but I have been wanting to do one like this for a while. Trust me when I say that you guys and these boys are in for a very, very wild ride ahead. Loki of course has some tricks up his sleeve, but he can only hide in his tricks for so long before 1) he falls in love with Thor despite himself and 2) Thor figures it all out and it all goes to hell.
> 
> Stay tuned! I cannot promise regular updates, but I am excited about this story and when I get excited, i usually binge write.  
> Also, please comment at the bottom once you've read! I really, really appreciate any and all feedback and comments. Don't be shy; I always respond! :)
> 
> The excerpt from the Prose Edda can be found [here](https://archive.org/stream/proseedda00brodgoog/proseedda00brodgoog_djvu.txt)

_His name is Loke, or Lopt. His father is the giant Farbaute, but his mother’s name is Laufey. His brothers are Byleist and Helblinde. Loke is fair and beautiful of face, but evil in disposition, and very fickle-minded. He surpasses other men in the craft called cunning, and cheats in all things. He has often brought the Aesas into great trouble, and often helped them out again, with his cunning contrivances._

“Father, you must rest,” Loki says, and he weaves some ribbons of Seidr from his dark blue fingers to soothe Laufey’s pain.  From his pocket dimension he conjures a tonic and holds it up to his father’s lips, but Laufey refuses and pushes him away.

“There is too much to do, my son.  I may be old, but I am not ready to lay down and die just yet,” he says.  Loki’s brow furrows as his father pushes himself up, standing on shaky legs.  When he’s upright, Laufey stands at nearly twice the height of his son. He looks down at his youngest and pats the top of his head fondly.  “Thank you for taking care of your dame, Loki. But there is war on its way to Jotunheimr. Thrym’s armies are gathering at the borders of Utgard and Glæsisvellir.  There is much for us to do.”

“What more can we accomplish than we already have?  Without the Casket, Seidr runs low in Utgard. Our food stores are dwindling, the crops are failing; more Jotunn runts are born now than ever before.  Thrym’s armies will destroy us in our current state. And you’ll pardon my being so direct, Father but if you do not give yourself some rest your Winter will be upon you sooner rather than later.  And you are worth nothing against Lord Thrym if you are dead.”

“Your council is duly noted, Little Lopt,” Laufey says, and holds out his arm for Loki to take and steady him.  He rolls his eyes at his father and reaches out to help him stand and walk. They make their winding way through the ice palace walkways and into the throne room, a cavernous hall with shining floors of quartz and a glistening ice throne at the center of the room.  Laufey eases into the seat with a quiet sigh, his golden armor clinking against the frozen throne. “You are right about the Casket. I have given the matter very much thought, and I think that the Casket is not so far out of our reach as the Aesir would have us believe.”

“You propose another war with Asgard?” Loki drawls, his arched brow a perfect indication of how impolitic he considers the mere idea.  

“No, my son,” Laufey answers, his lips forming a grim line.  “I propose a _marriage contract_.”  His words send an icy shock through Loki’s body, as the third prince of Jotunheimr was prepared for his father to suggest any course of action besides matrimony.  Loki grinds his teeth together and glares his crimson eyes at his father.

“Helbindi is betrothed already to Skaði, and Byleistr is far too tall to take an Aesir as his helpmate,” Loki says, and he bares his teeth as he snarls at his father, “So that leaves nobody else but me for the occupation.  You mean to trade your own son away in exchange for the Casket of Ancient Winters?” he scoffs, “Promise me as least that I will not be wed to that wretched Death Goddess, _Hela_.”

Laufey’s face is stricken with grief for his son as he answers,  “Do not fear that; Princess Hela wasted no time in expressing her aversion to the idea of taking a Jotunn as a spouse.”  Loki lets out a quiet snort, a mild sentiment of anger and resentment bubbling up inside of him. He has not even met the royal family of Asgard and already he can feel the burn of their prejudice against his cobalt skin and crimson eyes.  “But Odin King was happy to broker an agreement between our realms. The war has been over for many years, and an alliance with Jotunheimr will bring many fine opportunities for trade to the Aeses economy. He’s offered the hand of his youngest son, the Warrior Prince Thor, in exchange for the Casket of Ancient Winters.”

Loki’s mind reels at the mental image that name produces.  Loki has read songs about Thor on the battlefield, the Berserkr, the volatile God of Thunder and War.  He’s seen etchings of the man in books; a solid and brutish man with a stern brow and a hammer on his hip that could kill anything he struck it with.  He was an intimidating image of a man, and Jotunn or no, Loki shivered at the thought of lying with him in his marriage bed. (Though he couldn’t quite tell if the shiver was completely out of nonpareil horror, or perhaps something more base than that.)

“Thor?  You are wedding me to _Thor_?” he spits.  Of all the Odinsons… of course his father would choose the most brutal, oafish, empty-headed of them all.  Sure, his muscles were quite chiseled and impressive, his battlestreak unmatched in all the Nine Realms. But as husband material?  Certainly Loki could do better.

“I agree that he is not the most _ideal_ candidate for a helpmate, what with his boorishness and arrogant personality.  Balder would have been a much finer suit for you, in my opinion, but Odin King has already seen his eldest son wed to the Vanir Princess Nanna.  Either way, Thor will serve our purposes just fine, if you agree to the marriage.”

“If I agree?” Loki asks, and swivels his neck to stare up at his father in disbelief.  Laufey scoffs.

“Of course, Loki.  I would never trade you, as you’ve said, or force you into any marriage you did not fully consent to.”

Loki tilts his head in a slow nod, considering his father’s words carefully.  “You give me the freedom to decide, but you really leave me no choice,” he says finally, his lips a grim line on his face.  Laufey frowns.

“Dear one,” He says, and he reaches out to cup Loki’s cheek.  His hand spans the whole width of Loki’s head, his fingers curling around the back of his son’s skull and into the lengths of his dark raven hair.  “There is always a choice. If you can not marry the Aes, we will find another way to defeat Lord Thrym.”

Loki sniffs, and he holds his head high so that he can look into his father;s eyes as he declares.  “So it will be thus,” he says with a finality that only a prince could muster. “I will marry Prince Thor, for the Casket of Ancient Winters.  And in the Eddas they shall sing songs about me, Loki Laufeyson, who’s great sacrifice single handedly saved the whole of Jotunheimr from Lord Thrym’s terrible wrath.”

Laufey did not care to hide the robust roll of his eyes as his youngest son carried on with his melodrama, and he plucked his son’s arm up and tugged him forward.  Loki took his father’s arm, and together they hobbled across the crystalline floors and down through the chiseled walkways. All the way to the courtyard the echoes of their whispered conversations could be heard bouncing off the cavernous walls of the ice palace, “There are very important matters for us to discuss yet.  Now in order to seal the marriage contract, the Aesir will be expecting you to produce an heir with the Warrior Prince. Some semblance of this, of course can easily be arranged, and by the time the Aes have grown wiser the Casket will already be in our hands, and Jotunheimr will be saved…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I have recently come into a very tight spot. I don't want to ask for money, but I am facing dire straits right now with medical bills and college tuition. More info and supporting docs at the link below. Please donate if you can and share: https://www.gofundme.com/3375kz-college-tuition-amp-medical-bills&rcid=r01-154042559457-23b69afcfff0428b&pc=ot_co_campmgmt_w


	2. Summer I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving my American friends!!! And, of course if you are not American, I still wish you have a wonderful Thursday evening with your families and friends. I am glad to get this chapter up tonight, so I can consider myself on schedule! And this chapter clocks in just shy of 3000 words, which I impressed myself with, so I hope you enjoy the drama!

“Hmph,” Loki sniffs, tilting his neck forward and tugging at the collar of his bolero cloak.  It is one of his favorites, tanned from seal skin and lined with polar bear fur. His chest is bare, but even that does little to protect him from the sweltering heat of Asgard’s midsummer.  “Is the heat always so stifling in this dreadful realm?”

“Quiet, Loki,” Laufey says to his son, ushering him forward.  Loki carries on at an unhurried pace, allowing his gaze to fall on the high-domed ceilings and sparkling pillars of the Great Hall. There are massive portraits in golden frames hanging on the walls, the former Kings and Queens of Asgard gazing down at Loki as he and his father and lead to the throne room by a small company of Einherjar.  Everything in the hall glitters, not a single inch of the walls or floor untouched by silver or gold trimmings. Asgard’s royal palace is, at least, impressive by Loki’s standards. Hopefully the Aes are as good at diplomacy as they are at architecture, if Loki’s purposes are intended to be served by this marriage.

The throne room is bustling with activity.  Laufey bows low as he approaches the throne of the Allfather, though even then he barely comes to Odin’s height.  Loki bows after his father, pushing his cloak to the side and taking a knee on the cool marble floor in front of Odin’s throne.

“King Laufey and Prince Loki, it is my pleasure to welcome you to Asgard,” Odin commands the room when he speaks.  He steps down from the throne, holding out his hand to help Loki stand from the floor. He rises with a flourish and a small smile, and the Allfather kisses the back of his hand.  “I hope that you will enjoy your stay in our Golden City, Prince Loki.”

“The pleasure will certainly be all mine, Allfather,” Loki answers with ease.  It is then that he lifts his gaze from the Allfather’s face and onto the Aes standing several feet behind the Allfather; a man of great stature, dressed in full Asgardian armour with a traditional warrior’s braid hanging over his shoulder.  Too fair to be Balder, this surely must be the Thunder God. Loki’s gaze lingers on him for some time, his heart beat picking up in his chest. Thor is… different than Loki had imagined. Much larger, and much more handsome than he expected him to be.  Still, no matter the symmetry of his face or the size of his (quite frankly massive) muscles, Loki is still convinced that the prince will prove to be just as simple minded and brutish as every other Aes he’s ever had the displeasure to encounter.

He is so enamoured by the sight of Thor that Loki misses the conversation between Laufey and Odin, and it is not until his own name is mentioned that his attention is called back to the discussions. “...so until the wedding, Loki’s comfort with be seen to personally by my wife, Frigga.  Hopefully these next few weeks leading up to Midsummer will give Thor and Loki a chance to become better-acquainted with one another. In the meantime, let us enjoy a feast in honor of this union between Asgard and Jotunheimr.”

“Of course,” Laufey says, and he only spares a cursory glance at his son before he turns away and follows Odin out of the throne room.  Loki turns to follow them, but before he can take a step he is surprised by the weight of Thor’s hand on his arm, stalling him. Loki blinks up at him, suddenly feeling as dumb as the Warrior Prince looks.

“Allow me to walk with you, Prince Loki.”

He tilts his neck up and sniffs, then turns his face away indignantly.  “Very well,” he agrees, as if it is very burdensome to him to be escorted out of the hall so reverentially. He and Thor fall into pace behind their fathers and the company of Einherjar who walk with them.  Out of the corner of his eye Loki sees Thor smiling at him, a sparkling and idiotisk grin that Loki is sure lights up the room, though he refuses to turn his head and see for himself. Thor leans close, at this proximity Loki finds that the prince even smells good; his perfume creates a heady aroma of sandalwood and cinnamon that Loki finds obnoxiously intoxicating.

“You look troubled, Prince Loki.  I hope you are not finding Asgard so disagreeable already?” He chuckles a little, and Loki turns his gaze onto the Warrior Prince with narrowed eyes.  But Thor only smiles sweetly at him, and Loki huffs out a small sigh.

“It is only the heat that is bothering me, Odinson,” he answers.  “I was not expecting the weather here to be so stifling at this time of year.  Had I known, I may have dressed lighter…”

“Lighter?” Thor laughs, though Loki remains unamused.  He looks at Thor with one judgemental eyebrow hoisted, wondering what could possibly be so funny.  Thor stops laughing and looks Loki up and down. “Dear Prince, you are already mostly naked from the waist up.  How much lighter could you have dressed?”

Loki tilts his chin, his back arching like an angry cat.  “This costume is the traditional court uniform of Jotunheimr’s royal family.  We dress like this to display the noble lines of Laufey and his kin,” Loki says.  He immediately feels Thor’s eyes on his chest, tracking the pale and intricate lines and sworls that have been etched into his skin since birth.  He displays his body proudly under the attention, looking every bit to Thor like he was born to be worshipped.

“You are beautiful, Prince Loki,” Thor says, and in the arching doorway of the throne room they pause to stare at each other.  They are alone now, just for a moment, and Thor takes the opportunity to place his hand on Loki’s cheek and draw him in. Loki’s heart pounds in his chest, and with a sudden shortness of breath he looks up at Thor, his crimson eyes full of wonder and apprehension.  Thor continues with that easy smile, stroking his thumb over Loki’s cheek, resting just under his pursed, indigo lips. Loki’s stomach flutters with a foreign sensation of nervousness. “I know a cold spring at the edge of Ida’s Plains, I can take you there tomorrow if you’d like,” Thor says.  Loki stares back at him, eyes narrowed, and Thor coughs. “In the meantime, I’m sure the palace servants can draw you an ice bath to… cool you down.”

Loki nods slowly, then glances towards the doors.  Through them comes the din of plates and silverware scraping, and people dining.  “We should go join the feast.”

“Aye, you must be starved!” Thor supplies, and he holds out his arm again for Loki to take.  Slowly Loki reaches out, and he wraps his long, blue fingers around the top of Thor’s bicep, his black-painted fingernails tapping softly against Thor’s pale skin.  He smiles and pushes open the door, and together, the Third Prince of Jotunheimr and the Warrior Prince of Asgard walk into their engagement feast.

All eyes turn on them as they enter.  Immediately Loki feels Laufey’s sharp eyes upon him; no doubt his father is making degenerate inventions in his head for _why_ Loki had taken so long to walk out of the throne room with Thor. Astutely ignoring his father, Loki turns to appraise the others who are gathered around the large feasting table in the dining hall.  At the head of the table Odin sits proudly, and beside him is the prim and beautiful Allmother, his wife Frigga. She smiles graciously when she catches Loki’s eye, and bows her head to im minutely in greeting.  Beside her, steated is her most precious son, the fair Prince Baldur and his wife Nanna, hanging off of his every word as he chatters excitedly in her ear. And then, beyond them there is Hela. Loki recognizes her because there is no possibility that she could be any other; her wheat-colored blonde hair shining in the summer sun, her viper-like eyes, sharp features and studded armour speak for themselves. The Death Goddess glares at him with a cruel look in her eyes, and when she catches Loki staring at her her lips twist into some sick sort of smile.  Loki looks away, just in time for Thor to tug him along towards their seats on the other side of the table.

“Well, it took you two long enough,” Odin says with a chuckle, and then he stands to address the entire room.  All conversation hushes, and all eyes turn to the Allfather as he speaks. “It is a most joyous day for all of Asgard!  Prince Thor has been betrothed to the fair and clever Prince Loki of Jotunheimr. In honor of their engagement, let us celebrate with this feast!”  As he declares it, all of the table raise their glasses and shout an excited “Aye!”. Loki watches with reservation as his betrothed knocks back an entire carafe of mead in three gulps, then slams his cup down and calls for more ale.

The food, at least, looks and smells quite appetizing.  A seemingly endless stream of roasted and cured meats, smoked fish, pickled vegetables, and potatoes and plenty of sweets are paraded out of the kitchens by dozens of servants.  Loki’s stomach growls, and he greedily sets out to try every single item that is laid out before him. Thor watches with an amused twinkle in his eye as Loki piles his plate high with six different types of cooked meats- boar, veal, reindeer, lamb, quail and goat- and proceeds to consume it all at an alarming rate.  

“I thought that the Jotnar only ate raw meat, like wild beasts,” Hela sneers from across the table, eyeing Loki with mild disgust as he wipes some grease from his lips with the back of his hand.  

“We do prefer our meat on the rarer side,” Loki answers diplomatically.  He knows that Hela is baiting him and baiting his father, too, so he allows his silver tongue to soothe the situation before Laufey even has the chance to answer.  “As meats are richer in fat and protein when they are undercooked. But I do enjoy a well-done piece of pork, now and then,” Loki says, and with a small smirk he places the entire hind-leg of a wild boar between his lips and sucks the meat right off the bone.  Hela’s eyes roll back in her head and she turns her attention back to her plate, no doubt disgusted by Loki’s lascivious display. His father’s foot connects harshly with his shin, and with a satisfied smile Loki drops the bone back onto his plate and moves on to the next Asgardian delicacy the servants have set before him to try.

“I hope the heat isn’t treating you too harshly,” Frigga pipes up, immediately breaking the tension by nature of her palliative character, “Perhaps the choice to have the wedding at Midsummer was not the most considerate for your kin.”

“Loki has mentioned that the heat was bothering him,” Thor pipes up.  He apparently does not see the glare that Loki directs at him immediately when he speaks, or else he chooses to ignore it completely.  “I had suggested a ride out to Ida’s Springs tomorrow might offer him some relief from the heat.”

“Ah, a pleasant idea,” Frigga says, with a genuine smile on her face.  Loki wonders just how good a diplomat this woman is, or if she truly is this considerate of others.  “And Laufey King, will you be well?”

“I am sure Little Lopt can fashion some spell or other to preserve me from the heat,” Laufey says, and he looks to Loki sharply, those red eyes practically boring holes into the side of his head.  It would not take a genius to tell that his father is annoyed with him, but there is nothing Loki can do about it now, so instead he offers his father a polite smile and bows his head.

“Of course, Father.”

“Loki knows Seidr?” Balder asks with interest.  He glances towards his mother, who also seems very interested to hear of Loki’s magical abilities.  Laufey nods, puffing his chest out proudly and reaching over to touch his son’s shoulder.

“Aye, Loki is the most powerful Seidrmadr in all of Jotunheimr.  He has studied all manner of healing and combat magic since he was a little boy.  It will be such a shame to lose him when he is married to Thor, but then, I am sure that Asgard will reap the benefit of his prowess as well.”

“Indeed,” Odin says gravely.  “And of course, Jotunheimr will be compensated duly for such a great loss.”

“Ah yes, the Casket of Ancient Winters,” Laufey places down his cutlery and, across the table, eyes Hela slyly for a moment before continuing, “Jotunheimr and its people will be glad to see the Heart of their realm restored so soon.”

At that, Hela slams her goblet onto the table and turns to glare at her father.  “The Casket is an unfair price to pay in exchange for an ergi Jotunn _runt_ ,” she hisses, waving her hand dismissively in Loki’s direction.  Loki’s back straightens and his fingers twitch, a rush of powerful Seidr welling up in his fingertips, ready to dispel at his perceived threat at any moment.  He stills when he feels Thor’s hand on his thigh, fingers tightening in a bruising grip on Loki’s leg. He isn’t sure entirely if Thor is shielding him from Hela, or Hela from Loki, but either way he is displeased by it.  Hela continues, now addressing her father directly, “Are you really willing to give these _savages_ back the prize for which we fought so arduously during the Great War?  They will take the Casket, and they will take the Throne, and as they burn down the Nine Realms all you will have left is a half-breed _Frost Giant_ on the throne of Asgard, and a pitiful legacy left behind.”

“Hela, you are speaking gravely out of term,” Odin warns, at the same time that Loki snaps “Who are you calling a Frost Giant?”  Hela turns her ravenously angry eyes on to the unsuspecting Jotunn, rising from her seat and pointing one sharp-nailed finger directly at his chest.

“Certainly not _you_ , puny thing.  You are nothing more than a weasley, argr whore who daddy is throwing away in exchange for a block of ice.”  She smiles then, her teeth bared like a hungry wolf. “Isn’t that right?”

“No, it is not,” Laufey answers, and he stands up then, towering a good six feet over all the Aes in the room, including Hela.  She stares up at him definitely, unmoving, though Loki is certainly conscious of the way that her eyes track his every movement as though he is a viper waiting to strike.  Surely, she knows he could crush her in an instant. “You are an insolent little girl, Odinsdottir. I expected more from the royal line of Asgard, but I see now that I should not have.  And now I fear that giving away my son to this Golden Realm has been a grave mistake.” He reaches out and takes Loki by the arm, hoisting him easily out of Thor’s grip. Loki wants to shout at him, _Father, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_ _!??,_ but he keeps his tongue in his mouth and bites it.  He does not miss the triumphant smirk Hela wears on her lips, or the pained expressions of both Frigga and Thor, or the downright panicked look on Balder’s face as Loki is hauled away.

“Wait,” Odin commands, and Laufey stops, turning speculatively to the Allfather.  “Make no rash decisions, Laufey King. Let us go to chambers, my friend, and we will discuss this incident in private.”

Laufey sighs, considering Odin’s offer for a few suspenseful moments.  After exactly thirty seconds he very solemnly nods his head. “Very well, then.”

Loki can barely contain his grin as he paces the marble floor of the throne room, standing behind his father as they renegotiate the terms of Loki’s marriage to Thor.  Laufey has always heralded (and scolded, half as much) Loki for his finely tuned skills in the art of trickery, but this scheme of his father’s has certainly “taken the cake”, as the Midgardians say, in terms of devilishness.  

His father navigates the negotiations with ease: an injury to Loki’s name such as this cannot be taken lightly, surely Laufey will need some reassurance that Loki will be totally safe if he is to stay in Asgard. Perhaps if Odin were to relinquish the Casket to the bridegroom on the day after the wedding?  No, of course not so soon after a fresh union. Then, at the conception of Thor’s first heir, Jotunheimr should receive Loki’s dowry payment. Confirmed by Asgardian healers, of course, Laufey would have it no other way. He is surely as excited as Odin is to become a grandparent! And now, with the matter of the Casket settled, what would Odin say of Hela’s punishment for her slight against Loki?

For her insolence, Hela is brought before Odin Allfather.  With Laufey King and Loki in audience, Odin shorns her golden hair to the shoulder length, and with his Seidr he colors the remaining strands black as ash and soot.  When she stands there are tears glistening in her eyes, but when she looks on Loki all he can see is pure, burning hatred behind those tears. She storms from the room, followed shortly by Odin.  Laufey’s hand settles lightly on his son’s shoulder, a small comfort for the growing sensation of dread that has settled into Loki’s chest.

“It is most unfortunate that this is a journey you must make, my son.  The path to our victory against Thrym will be darkened with many enemies for you and I both, both outside and within the borders of Asgard.  But the Golden Prince does seem rather enamoured with you already,” he pats Loki on the shoulder. Loki smiles. Thor does seem… nice enough.  A little dimwitted. But a hopeful ally, and quiet handsome too. Loki gasps and jerks away when his father unkindly pinches his neck. “Now don’t _fək_ up all my hard word with that kränkande tongue of yours.”

Loki scowls, but does not say anything.  And if the first thought to his mind is that maybe Thor will _appreciate_ the workings of his offensive tongue, then perhaps Loki has never been so grateful that his father is not gifted in the art of clairvoyance.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What are you doing here?”

Whatever Thor had been poised to say before Loki spoke, he stutters now, looking utterly confused by Loki’s clipped tone and outwardly diffident attitude.  He sniffs, straightening himself and broadening his shoulders. Loki does his best to not laugh in the poor Aes’s face.

“I thought to invite you to break fast together, this morning.  I know dinner last night did not end very pleasantly… I had hoped I could make it up to you,” Thor answers, holding out his arm for Loki to take.  The Prince does so candidly, his thin blue fingers standing out sharply against the pale white skin of Thor’s arm. He tucks himself close as they begin to walk down the hallway together, towards the kitchens.

“You are impatient, Odinson.  We will be seeing each other shortly at the Allfather’s privy council this morning.  Surely your apology could have waited until then,” Loki answers cooly. Thor lets out a soft snort.

“Aye, this is true.  But I had hoped to acquaint myself with you more personally, Prince Loki.  We are to be wed in little more than a fortnight.”

“I am aware,” Loki says deliberately, “And just how long were you creeping about my rooms, waiting for me to open the door and step out in your arms, Odinson?”

Thor snorts at Loki, “I wasn’t waiting at all.  I had just arrived, and was going to knock when you opened the door.  You did not tell me you were gifted with the Sight,” he says with a little smirk, nudging Loki in the ribs almost playfully.  Loki glares up at him, his lips twisting into a little smile as he answers.

“Dear Odinson, if I were gifted with the Sight, I most certainly would have been able to avoid running into  _you_ this morning, don;t you think?” he says.  Thor chuckles, and Loki pats him gently on his bicep.  The sheer size of Thor’s muscles is still incredibly impressive to Loki.  He finds his gaze lingering on the body of his betrothed after a few awkward seconds and, flustered, Loki vanquishes all lascivious thoughts from his mind.  He clears his throats and pronounces. “Of course, I agree with you. We are to be wed, and we should get to know each other better. Will we be dining alone, or with company?”

“It is early yet.  We should have the kitchens to ourselves for a while,” Thor says.  They continue down a flight of stairs, and then Thor releases Loki’s arm to open a door which leads into the palace pantry.  The room is large, spanning at least fifteen feet from wall to wall, every inch of space lined with shelves and storage units of different sorts.  The ceilings in this room as low; if Loki’s father were here he would have to crouch to walk through it. As it is, Loki and Thor fit just fine. Various animal hides, caught fish and cured meats hand from hooks on the ceiling, drying out for later consumption.

Thor moves around the pantry like he is used to working in the space, which Loki is taken aback by.  He had expected the Odinson to be completely used to pampered palace life… used to having servants prepare his every meal; certainly unable to navigate a cauldron or stovetop for his very life.  Needless, Thor moves around the kitchen with ease, collecting ingredients from various shelves and cabinets with swift efficiency.

“eggs?” he asks Loki.  The Prince shrugs.

EI have never had them before.”

“I will make them for you, then,” Thor says, and he violently cracks open several eggs on the side of a pan and begins to fry them over an open flame.  Loki watches him with interest, his stomach rumbling as the aroma of cooked eggs fills the air around them. While the eggs fry, Thor busies himself slicing bread and cheese and laying the spread out on two plates for them to share.

The food is delicious.  Lok is impressed when he places the first bite of fried eggs onto his tongue and decides that he likes it very much; he had not been expecting much from Thor’s cooking.  He tells him so. Thor laughs heartily and offers him another serving, which Loki greedily accepts.

“When I was very young, my grandmother Bestla taught me to cool.  She was Jotunn; a hardy woman without a lazy bone in her body. She would not allow me to be served on by the palace servants.  She taught me to cook, to clean and hem my own clothing.” Thor’s lips twitch a little bit, a faraway look coming into his eyes. “She did everything for herself.  She hated to think that I might become a spoiled little princeling if she didn’t teach me to care for myself, too.”

Loki lets out a thoughtful hum around his stuffed mouthful.  “She sounds like a wonderful woman,” he answers, and even surprises himself when he means what he says.  He takes another bite from his plate, then reaches for a slice of rye bread to wash the eggs down with. As he swallows the last bits of his food, he finds himself looking down at his lap almost self-consciously.  “If you are expecting that kind of magnanimous behavior from myself, I am afraid I will disappoint you. I am… quite used to being served by others. I have the tendency to overindulge myself. Some might even consider me to be a  _spoiled princeling_.”

Thor smiles across the table and nudges him underneath with his foot.  His boot chafes against Loki’s bare ankle, but the Prince does not pull away.  “Aye, I can tell,” he says with a grin, “You did not even thank me for cooking this meal for you.”

Loki blinks in surprise, stunned momentarily to silence by Thor’s words.  Had he really forgotten to thank Thor for cooking for them? How poorly the Prince must think of him!  Blushing a dark shade of indigo, Loki clears his throat and reaches across the table to pat the back of one of Thor’s very large hands.  “Of course I am thankful, Odinson. Your cooking was very pleasant, I think I will want to have chicken eggs again. And your company has been tolerable, so I think I will have that again as well.”

Thor guffaws, “Tolerable?  Just tolerable?”

Loki’s smile is quick and sharp.  “I cannot set the bar too low for you, Odinson.  A successful marriage will take a bit more effort than serving stale bread and slightly overdone eggs--”

“I thought you said the eggs were good.”

“The eggs were delicious,” Loki sighs.  He laughs at the way Thor beams at the praise, and wonders silently if it will always be so easy to please his husband.  Thor is such a simpleton. Loki stands and collects his plate, brings it to the basin on the other side of the room and drops it in there.  There is a knob connected to the wall, and when Loki turns it cool water rushes from the spicket and into the sink below.

“Will you break fast with me again tomorrow, then?” Thor asks as he walks his own plate over to the sink, dropping it in with a clatter.  Loki smiles without looking at Thor, running his fingers absentmindedly under the cool water from the spicket.

“Yes, of course,” he answers easily.  He doesn't even need to think about it.  Thor preens at Loki’s answer, and the Prince is caught off guard by the press of Thor’s warm, dry lips to his temple .  He whips his head around, but Thor is already bustling back to the kitchen table, collecting stray crumbs of rye and cheese left behind from their breakfast. Loki swallows the nervous flutter he feels in his chest and turns the water off, quickly drying his fingers on his cloak.  This one is a dark shade of forest green, made of a lighter material than his seal skin coat and hanging loosely from his bare shoulders. Aside from the black and golden silk leggings the rest of his body is bare, a fashionable defense against the putrid weather of Asgard’s midsummer.  

“Will the weather be this warm for the entire season?” Loki complains, still running his fingers under the cool tap and occasionally flicking his face with water droplets.  

“Well, probably,” Thor answers.  “Don’t you have summers in Jotunheimr?”

“We do, but not like this.  More like… a thawing season.  The ice melts just enough to allow for hardy crops to grow,” Loki answers.  “Of course, since the Casket was taken our summers have been growing longer. Another two or three hundred years without the Casket and all the ice will be gone.”

Thor is shocked into silence by Loki’s words, which Loki is glad for.  He wants the Odinson to know the severity of his pain. The pain of his people.  He grips the edges of the sink, his knuckles turning white with the force he grips the ceramic basin.  A bead of sweat runs down his forehead and he quickly wipes it away. He is startled when he suddenly feels something very cold at the back of his neck, and he jerks in surprise.

“Ice,” Thor explains quickly, and Loki shivers at the feel of the cold block melting against his over overwarm skin.  “We have no shortage of it here in Asgard.”

Loki rolls his eyes.  “You are an ignoramus, Odinson,” he snaps.  But he doesn’t move away from Thor’s touch, or more importantly, the cool ice he offers to soothe Loki’s skin.  “How is it that you Aesir always know how to say the wrong thing?”

“I did not mean to insult you.”

“Hmph.”

“Allow me to make it up to you.”  And then Loki is looking into the smiling face of the Odinson again.  He lifts his eyebrows in anticipation. “I’ll take you to the cold springs I spoke about last night.  I am sure you’ll enjoy yourself there.”

Loki sniffs, tilting his head upward.  His long locks fall over his shoulders, and Thor’s hand becomes tangled in his hair.  He needs to drag his fingers through Loki’s tangled locks in order to free his hand, and Loki shamefully admits to himself that he rather enjoys the feeling.

“Fine,” he agrees shortly, his expression prim as he draws away from Thor.  “Tomorrow morning we can go. We have some council meetings to attend today, and wedding plans to finalize with our fathers.”  He sounds, frankly, exhausted at the prospect of the dozens of meetings ahead of them.

“Aye,” Thor agrees with a sigh, and sounds equally as unenthusiastic about their duties as Loki does.  He steps away from the Jotunn prince and takes up his hand, pressing his lips to Loki’s chilly knuckles.  “Catch me trying not to fall asleep during the council’s minutes report.”

Loki snorts at that, and he watches with a small smirk as the youngest prince of Asgard sweeps out of the kitchens and off to his chambers to change for the day.  Loki begins to collect his things, ready to do the same, when there is a soft noise at the doorway. He turns and spots a dainty-looking Aesir woman standing in the doorway, the expression on her face nervous.  Loki recognizes her from dinner the night before as Balder’s young wife. Nanna. He nods to her, a polite smile turning the corners of his lips.

“Prince Loki, I didn’t expect you to be down here so early…”

“Thor woke me to break fast with him this morning,” he answers, leaning against the edge of the sink.  Nanna steps further into the room, walking towards the table and beginning to ice a piece of bread with butter and jam.  Loki watches curiously, wondering what the combination must taste like. Nanna holds up a slice.

“Would you like to try?”

“Sure,” Loki says, and waltzes forward. He did just eat his own breakfast, but Loki always has room for more food.  And he has found that he is particular fond of some of these Aesir delicacies, particularly those that are sweet and sugary.  He takes the slice from Nanna with delicate fingers and pops it into his mouth, humming contentedly at the sweet and salty taste.

“Very good.”

“I’m glad you’re finding Asgardian food to your liking,” she says sweetly, buttering up another slice for herself.  “The cooks have been reeling for weeks over what to prepare during your stay. I’m not sure that even half of them know what a true Jotnar diet consists of.”

Loki chuckles softly.  “Aye… I’m beginning to recognize that as a disturbing trend amongst the Asgardian court.”

The expression on Nanna’s face crumples.  “Oh, are you talking about Hela?” her nose wrinkles.  “I am so sorry for what happened last night, Prince Loki.  Balder’s sister is just…,” she pauses, clearly trying to choose her next words very carefully.  Finally she shakes her head and lets out a little sigh. “Well, don’t take anything she says personally.  She’s like that to everyone.”

Loki looks at Nanna sharply.  “Is she like that to you?”

The drawn look on Nanna’s face is answer enough to Loki’s question, but he waits silently for her to respond anyway.  She takes her time, spreading a generous amount of jam onto her bread before she finally sighs and says, “When Balder and I were married, Hela treated me very cruelly.  She was jealous that her brother would become king before her. I suppose she sought to scare me away… it was all pointless, in the end. I could never make Balder a King anyway.”

Loki frowns.  “Why is that? Are you not married to him?”

“I am.  But you need an heir to be a King, and this I cannot give to Balder.”

Loki pauses, his eyes going low to Nanna’s flat belly, then settling back onto her face.  There he looks and sees the drawn expression on her face again, but this time, he thinks it is there for a different reason.  “I see,” he answers softly, and he reaches out to settle a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Nanna.”

“I am okay,” she quickly responds, and when she looks up at Loki again her expression is so determined that he almost believes her.  It’s the tight smile, and the way her eyes glisten that gives her away. “You cannot exactly mourn what you never had to begin with, right?”

“That is right,” Loki politely agrees.  He lets his hand drop away from her shoulder, and points at the bread loaf to distract her.  “May I have another slice, please?”

She smiles.  “Yes, of course,” she says, and begins to cut him another slice.  He isn’t even hungry, but he takes it anyway and chews it slowly.

“Thank you, Nanna.”

“You are very welcome, Prince Loki.”

Loki thrusts out his hand and takes Nanna’s in his own. “It’s Loki to you,” he says sweetly.  Nanna smiles and squeezes his pale blue fingers in her own.

“Of course,” she smiles widely.  “Loki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
>  **idiotisk** = idiotic  
>  **fək** = fuck  
>  **kränkande** = offensive
> 
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	3. Summer II

“I’d like to court you.  Properly,” Thor announces to Loki as he helps him onto the back of his horse.  Loki has never seen a creature such as this one; is unfamiliar with its build and demeanor.  He waits for Thor to climb up behind him and slide his hands around his torso.

“And what does a courtship from you entail, Odinson?”

Thor shrugs, and kicks the side of the horse so that she jolts into motion.  Loki gasps sharply and squeezes Thor, and in his peripheral vision he can see Thor’s toothy grin. He frowns and loosens his grip a little bit, if only for the sake of seeing that smug expression disappear from Thor’s oafish face.

“For one thing, we will spend a lot of time together.  I will give you gifts, write you poetry, perhaps take you to a feast or two so we can dance.  There will be a lot of wooing.”

“Of course, you could never forget the wooing,” Loki drawls.  “And what are my responsibilities, in this?”

Thor stills, thinking for a moment.  Then he sees the flirtatious look on Loki’s face and he smiles.  He leans back into Loki’s grip and leads their horse into a cantor.  “Well, you will need to act appropriately charmed by my advances.”

“What if I am not charmed, though?” Loki teases, tossing his hair so that Thor gets a mouthful of it.

“I am sure that you will be,” Thor says confidently.  “But if not, I suppose I will just have to try harder.”

Loki hums.  He likes the sound of that.  Thor is all long lines and hard muscles beneath his grasp and Loki must admit that he likes it a lot.  He peers over the top of Thor’s shoulder and watches the Asgardian landscape go by; the sprawling fields of barley and flowers, grazing cattle, the bright blue sky, the blazing sun.  He realizes that in a matter of weeks, all of this is going to be his own. The thought is daunting, and Loki shakes his head to clear his mind. They are entering a small forest now, where a trail path has been carved by previous horses and footmen walking along.

“I suppose it might be nice,” Loki says thoughtfully, and he can see Thor smirking over his shoulder.  He squeezes his hip, digging his dark blue fingernails into the soft skin of Thor’s belly. “You’re doing an adequate job so far, anyhow.  The landscape is breathtaking.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Thor beams, proud of the beautiful planet he calls home.  He looks up at the sky, the bright sun shining in his eyes and glinting off of the golden strands of hair on his head.  “How about Jotunheimr? Will you tell me of your home?”

Loki draws a short breath, surprised by the turn that this conversation has taken.  He never expected Thor would want to know more about his home world. Aside from wanting tactical advantage over their realm, why would an Aes ever care enough to learn about Jotunheimr?

“Jotunheimr is beautiful,” Loki finds himself saying, his lips moving without his own permission.  “From the palace at Utgard you can see just about the entire city and countryside; miles and miles of snow and glaciers that shimmer in the sunshine.  Every night it snows, and in the morning the people wake to fresh snow drifts and ice sculptures in their backyards. My people believe it is a gift from Skadi, the Goddess of the Eternal Winter.”

Loki sighs, thinking wistfully of his homeworld.  It has only been a week since he landed on Asgard, and he already misses it terribly.  “Of course, the gifts of Skadi have come less and less in the past few years,” he says softly.    He sees Thor frown out of the corner of his eye and he continues, “She visits my people less and less now that the Casket is off world.  Without its power, Jotunheimr is thawing. My father says we only have a century left, two at the most, before the whole planet has melted.”

Thor frowns, and turns to face Loki.  “What happens then?”

Loki shrugs.  “The planet will most likely flood.  Whole cities have already been lost to the rising sea levels.  Within 150 years, the whole planet will be an ocean.”

Thor’s frown deepens.  “What about when the Casket is restored?  When the treatise between our peoples is complete, will its power be enough to save Jotunheimr?”

Loki pauses.  Thor looks… genuinely concerned.  And that is shocking to him. He nods, biting his lip.  “Hopefully. Only time will tell, really,” he says. He squirms uncomfortably behind Thor.  “I am tired of sitting like this. Are we there yet?”

“Almost,” Thor says, and he leads their horse up a windy, secluded path in the forest.  They go up the mountain for a while yet, and just when Loki is about to begin complaining again, the trees open up and reveal a massive waterfall and wading pool.  An oasis in the middle of the forest. Thor turns and smiles at him like an excited child, hopping off the horse and tethering it to a tree. He helps Loki down from the steed’s back, and guides him to the edge of the pool.

“My brother and I used to come swim here when we were children.  Would you like to test the water?”

Loki nods, and sticks his bare toes into the crystalline water.  It is frigid, and Loki instantly feels relief at the cool temperature.  He hadn’t even realized how hot he was until this moment. He smiles at Thor.

“You said it is safe to swim in, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Thor agrees.  He turns away from Loki and begin to unfasten his tunic and belt.  Loki watches for a moment, transfixed by his betrothed massive muscles and sculpted abdomen, before he shakes himself and turns away to do the same.  Once he is in nothing but his underclothes he turns back to Thor.

“Are you ready?” Thor asks with a grin.  It is only in that moment that Loki realizes that Thor is _naked_ .  His eyes track down to Thor’s waist, setting on his _massive_ \--

“Certainly,” Loki says, and with a wicked laugh he surges forward and pushes Thor into the pool.  Asgard’s second prince tumbles forward gracelessly, shouting Loki’s name, and at the last moment he reaches out and grabs hold of the blue wrist that pushed him.  Loki shouts and tumbles after him, and they land together with a splash in the frigid pool. Thor sputters, his lips already turning a little blue, and flips his soaking hair out of his face.

“That was unkind, Loki!” he says, but even as he chastises him he cannot seem to wipe the smile from his lips.

“Aye, but you seem to have liked it anyway,” Loki says with a smirk.  Thor seems to realize in that moment that he has his arms wrapped around Loki’s waist, and their bellies are pressed flush under the water.  He quickly releases his betrothed, his cheeks going ruddy. Loki doesn’t move far away, wading in small circles around Thor.

“This is so nice,” Loki says with a sigh, and tips his head backwards to wet his hair. Thor nods in agreement, though his teeth chatter in a manner that looks surprisingly uncomfortable.  Loki peers at him curiously. “Are you sure you’re not too cold?”

“What?  I am fine,” Thor insists, and at that moment a full body tremor shakes him.  The poor boy is going to freeze to death if he doesn’t get out of this pool soon.  Loki rolls his eyes.

“Is this some Asgardian courting custom I’m not aware of?” Loki asks.  Thor frowns.

“Wh-wh-wh-what?”

“Is it Asgardian custom to make a fool of yourself for the sake of a courtship?” Loki asks, and flicks some water into Thor’s face.  He winces when the cold droplets touch his nose. “You are going to kill yourself if you stay in here much longer.”

“I li-li-like being in h-h-h-here with you,” Thor’s teeth chatter as he speaks.  Loki rolls his eyes again, but now he cannot hide the way he is smiling. He reaches out and touches Thor’s bright red cheek, sending a wave of Seidr out with his fingertips.  Thor instantly stops shivering, his body warmed by Loki’s elemental magic.

“Thank you,” he breathes.  Loki smiles and shrugs one shoulder.

“It was no trouble.  After all, Jotunheimr will never get the Casket back if you die of pneumonia a week before the wedding.”

Thor chuckles, and he leans back in the water like Loki had earlier, now feeling much more comfortable.  “Right,” he sighs. Loki feels him pulling away, so he swims closer to Thor and crowds up against him.

“Of course, if you still feel cold, I can always hold you to keep you warm,” he says.  He loops his arms around Thor’s waist, the same way they were sitting on the horse earlier, and slots himself against the prince’s back.  Thor chuckles, trying and failing to shake Loki off.

“You little minx, get off of me,” he laughs.  Loki growls in his ear, letting his sharp fangs graze Thor’s bare shoulder.

“A warrior prince such as yourself should easily be able to shake off a little Jotunn like me,” he teases.  Thor bristles at the challenge.

“I do not want to hurt you.”

Loki snorts.  “As if I would let you.”

They wrestle, splashing around in the pool for a number of minutes before Thor finally succeeds in removing Loki from his back.  He pins him against a rock on the other side of the pool, and once again they find themselves pressed belly to belly, breathing heavily against one another.  Loki feels Thor’s cock brush his bare thigh; it’s hard under the water and straining. Loki nudges him with his knee, and Thor’s eyes go wide.

“Loki,” he gasps, and instantly loosens his hold on the other prince’s body.  Loki doesn’t push him away, though, and clings to him closer.

“Thor, no,” he whispers, and he loops his arms delicately around Thor’s neck.  He pushes a strand of wet hair away from his face. “Don’t go.”

“Loki,” Thor says again, this time more desperately.  He cups Loki’s face in his hands, pale fingers tracing the dark heritage lines on his cheeks.  He leans forward to press their lips together and Loki meets him halfway. They kiss for a long time, lips wet from the icy spring water.  When they pull apart they are panting into each other’s mouths, and Loki smiles at Thor.

“You know,” he says thoughtfully, tangling his fingers into Thor’s hair and reeling him in closer.  His lips brush Thor’s cheek as he whispers, “I think I like the idea of a courtship, after all.” Thor smiles and kisses him again, and for just a moment, all's right with the world.

The little bubble Thor and Loki made for themselves that afternoon only lasts until dinner that evening.  Hela is still angry over the punishment Odin gave her for disrespecting Loki on their first night in Asgard, and she spends most of the meal glaring at Loki across the dinner table and scoffing at every word he speaks.  Loki can also feel his father’s sharp gaze boring a veritable hole into the back of his head, and he knows why. Thor may have gotten a little carried away during their lovemaking and left a rather sizeable bruise on his neck.

“What did you boys get up to today?” Queen Frigga asks as she cuts away a slice of lamb and brings her fork to her lips.  Loki glances to Thor to see if he is going to answer his mother, but sees quickly that his betrothed is occupied with a huge mouthful of roasted meat.  He fights the urge to roll his eyes and politely smiles at the Queen.

“Well, Thor took me to the stables and showed me the horses.  We don’t have them on Jotunheimr. I hope we can do it again sometime, I’d love to learn to ride on my own.”

Thor nods in agreement, his mouth still full of food.  He swallows thickly and wipes some grease from his lips.  “Him Prince Loki did wonderfully with the horses. Perhaps we could get him his own, father?  So he won’t need to ride Stormbreaker with me all of the time.”

“I think that is a great idea,” Odin agrees.

“Will he even know how to care for it?” Hela asked with a sneer,  “I thought the Jotnar ate horses.”

“Only when they are being ridden by Aesir,” Loki says under his breath, and flashes his pointy teeth at Hela from across the table.  She bristles, but luckily she was the only one who heard his comment. The last thing that they needed was an inter-realm war to break out over the dinner table.  

“Loki has experience caring for animals.  On Jotunheimr he raised his own Bilgesnipe from a calf.  I am sure he will learn quickly to care for these horses,” Laufey King says.  Loki nods at his father gratefully, but when he looks into his father’s eyes Laufey is still glaring at him.  He quickly looks away, and despite how he doesn’t care for the rich and fatty food that the Aesir eat, busies himself with stuffing his mouth with his supper.

Loki can avoid his father’s wrath during dinner, but he cannot escape Laufey completely.  His father is waiting for him his chambers after desert, arms crossed over his chest and a stern frown on his lips.

“You let the Odinson fuck you,” he says.  Loki bristles; he’s been candid with his father in the past, but he never expected Laufey to be so blunt.  Or to think so low of him that he’d believe Loki would spread his legs for Thor with the snap of his fingers.

“Father, no--”

“Loki, my son,” Laufey interrupts in a desperate voice, and he crouches low so that he can reach out and hold his son’s shoulders.  “I know this is hard for you. It is hard for me too. To see my firstborn son wed off to one of these…” he trails off with a sneer, looking towards the window on the other side of Loki’s chambers.  “You cannot lay with him unprotected. If you become pregnant now we will have no chance of victory against Thrym.”

“I am not stupid, father.  I told the Odinson that I wanted to save myself until the night of our wedding.  He took his pleasure against my thigh and that was the end of it.”

Laufey still does not look happy, but he no longer appears angry.  He looks at Loki for a long time, his eyes lingering on the bruise below Loki’s collarbone.  Loki touches it self-consciously, his cheeks turning purple.

“And you took no pleasure from this encounter, I am sure,” Laufey drawls, giving his son a knowing look.  If Loki’s cheeks could grow any darker, they would be bright purple.

“Of course not!” Loki shouts, scandalized.  “He’s an _Aesir_.  They’re so pale and… dainty… I don’t--”

“Save it, Loptr,” Laufey says.  Loki stills, his eyes wide as he looms up at his father, expecting retribution.  Instead he sees his father smirking at him. “It is better that you are attracted to him.  If the Odinson believes you share some sort of intimate connection, it will make your pregnancy more believable.  If you are a willing participant to his courtship he will never suspect your betrayal.”

Loki nods in agreement.  His father is right… his connection to Thor gives him a tactical advantage over the Odinson.  And that is all his attraction to Thor is: a tactical advantage. “You should give me the contraceptive now.  Thor intends to court me ‘properly’ for the weeks leading up to the wedding. I will need to respond appropriately to whatever situations we find ourselves together… in,” Loki finishes awkwardly, looking anywhere but at his father’s face.  From the pocket of his tunic Laufey produces a small vial of dark green potion. He holds it out to his son carefully.

“One sip in the morning before your breakfast and you will be protected from pregnancy.  There is enough in this vile for thirty days. Do not let him between your legs if you have not drunk from this in the same day.  That boy is a Fertility God and he will get you with child.”

Loki crinkles his nose.  The thought of Thor impregnating him is extremely unappealing.  Especially with his father’s war against Thrym on the horizon, Loki knows that he must have his strength at 100%.  A pregnancy will drain his Seidr significantly, not to mention that any babe he gets with Thor will be terribly unwanted.  Prince Thor is handsome and charming, sure, but just the thought of having a child with him makes Loki want to be sick. He takes the vial and cradles it in his palm, then tucks it safely into a pocket in his skirt.

“Thank you, father.”

“Of course, my son,” Laufey says, and he pulls Loki into a loose hug and presses a kiss to his temple.  “You are a brave boy,” he says. Loki nods in agreement, feeling quite sympathetically for himself. Loki has never been one to shy away from a compliment, especially one from his father. And, after all, his life on Asgard is not going to be all pasties and rainbow bridges.  Spending time with Prince Thor is going to be hard work! After just one day spent entertaining him Loki is already exhausted. “I mean, the muscles on that boy are huge. I cannot even imagine how large his cock was, and that must have been very scary for you--”

“Father!” Loki cries, scandalized.  Laufey laughs and lets go of his son, ruffling his hair.

“Rest well, my son.  We have more meetings in the morning, and I’m sure your betrothed will want to steal you away to give you some more hickeys--”

“Father, _really_ ,” Loki gasps.  Laufey cackles, utterly amused with himself, and even after Loki has banished him from his chamber he can hear his father laughing his way down the hallway.  Loki groans and slumps against the door, utterly humiliated. He needs a strong drink.

The thought dispenses itself in Loki’s mind without his permission; perhaps Thor would like to join him for a night cap.  Loki pushes himself to his feet, opens his door, and heads down the hallway towards Thor’s bedchambers.


End file.
